Thursday, September 23, 2010

Shades Of Black

This was written by me after a funeral in 1986 of one of the first AIDS patients that I had.

Polyester Black,
Knit Black,
Silk Black,
Cotton Black.
All for the same purpose, all for the same reason.
Wet smoke creeping around our legs, hanging at our waist.
Waiting.
Incense.
An Orthodox preist. Watching an old man's trembeling hands
holding golden candles
many candles,
mourning a dead son and his dying memories.
Cold October rain
dripping
off
his
ear.
As the wet smoke hangs at our waist, waiting
Praying and chanting in a forgein tounge
Forgien faces,
Forgein customs
Beside his grave.
Eating the honey dipped bread and not knowing why?
Remembering the day we that we brought him here.
He was the first one who just died. Right then , right there.
I walked into his room, he took my hand, he nodded and then he died. They beleive that through my body and part of it stayed.
They are right.
but, not just him.
All of them.
This is where I gain my strength
To carry on.
They give me more than I give to them.
They give part of their souls
To me.
The part they want to leave behind.
He was tired.
He was ready.
He waited for me to arrive.
I did.
Now, I would go and tell his mother.
She would not understand my words.
My forgein tounge.
She would see it in my eyes.
He would tell her.
He did.
I was there,
I am here again, today
Different shades of black.
All with the same meaning.
They miss him.
Wet smoke hangs in the air.
I watch it slowly creep about those standing near.
It visits.
It waits.
They are unaware.
Cold October rain.
Dripping, dripping of of mother's hat.
Black eyes
Black wool
Black
hole
in
her
soul.

Your poem IS truly a work of art, as Sheri says. Your description of the trauma ensuing after your grandmother's death is also quite interesting, and so typical in a lot of ways. I enjoying getting to know you. God bless.

About Me

Ruth Coker Burks learned early in life the true value of a cemeteryand "EVERYTHING" that is buried there. At ten years of age, Ruth's grandmother died in an automobile accident..The trauma of the accident dulled compared to the family fight that ensued...Ruth's eccentric mother bought 262 grave spaces in the family cemetery. ALL of the remaining spaces so that her mother's own brother, Uncle Fred, and his family could not be buried with the rest of the family..Ruth's mother then put up her marker that read in part, "Woe be unto you hypocrites, Pharisees and scribes" paraphrased from Matthew 23..to suit her needs..Throughout the next decade all Ruth heard from both her mother, and the family was about the cemetery and "that marker" Ruth has since donated the cemetery as a final resting place for over forty AIDS patients whose families had abandoned them in their greatest time of need. Ruth struggles with dyslexia which keeps everything interesting.. Punctuation is an issue, so please forgive. eecummingsisherhero All works, stories and photographs and likeness are copyrighted. written consent Last2cu is the TM of Ruth Coker Burks. Copyright 2000-2015. All rights reserved.